


Burning up

by Trojie



Series: Trojie's Pornathon Entries 2012 [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fever, Fuck Or Die, M/M, References to Suicide, Very Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>For the Merlin Summerpornathon's second 2012 challenge - apocalypse/fuck-or-die.</i>
</p><p>The prisoner in the cells is burning up - Arthur can feel it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning up

Something wakes Arthur in the dead of night, something hot and sticky in the back of his mind. He dresses distractedly and goes to the dungeons, searching.

'Let me in,' he says to the gaoler. 'Give me your key. And leave.'

His father's latest prisoner is in his cell, huddled in the corner and making soft, huffing breathless noises. Arthur unlocks the door and slips in. 'What's the matter?' he asks, going to touch the man, who shies away, dark hair flopping into his blue eyes.

'Don't touch me,' he moans. 

But that's just what Arthur has to do, what the burning in his head is telling him to do. 'What's the matter?' he demands. 

'Leave me alone,' says the man. ' _Please_.'

Arthur bulls in, presses the soft inner skin of his wrist to the man's forehead. 'You're burning up,' he says, and the rational part of him wants to jerk away, the heat is so intense, but just that simple act of _touching_ feels too good to let go of.

''m fine.'

'Liar. You've got a fever, a deadly one.' Arthur should get up and go for Gaius - even condemned prisoners are due medical care. But he still can't talk himself into letting go. 'You'll die.'

The man is panting now. 'Better than a real pyre,' he says, spitting into the straw next to Arthur. 'Damn you, let me go.' His eyes are fixed on Arthur's, though, and he licks his lips as if he doesn't know he's doing it.

'Not until you tell me what's wrong,' says Arthur, fixated on that pink tongue dragging across those soft-looking lips. 'And your name. Tell me your name. I'm Arthur.'

'Merlin,' says the prisoner softly. Arthur's grip tightens involuntarily at the sound of it, and Merlin mewls and bucks, jacknifing from the hips like he's been burnt. The motion makes Arthur look down, and see - see that Merlin's hard and straining in his trousers, and it seems like the right thing, the only thing, to kiss him then, pinned into the straw. 

Merlin falls apart under that, sinks boneless into Arthur's hold and opens his mouth to draw Arthur in, tongue and breath and gasping nonsense words and all. 

Arthur doesn't know what he's doing, this is wrong, this is _wrong_ but he has to do it. He fumbles at Merlin's belt, tears at his trousers - and then Merlin grabs his hand and sucks three fingers into his mouth all at once. 

When he lets go, panting, he says, 'If we have to - please, just do it. I can't do this any more.'

His legs are wide, cradling Arthur, making room so that Arthur can drag his hand all wet and hot between and in, and then Merlin is spitted on him, crying for it, trying to muffle his noise with his hand. Arthur drags it away. 'Tell me,' he says. 'Tell me.'

'Shut up,' says Merlin fiercely. 'Just - do it, Arthur. I'll die if you don't. Just put it in me, _please_.'

Arthur doesn't take orders, but he will happily grant requests. Merlin is like a furnace inside. Arthur loses his head, loses his _mind_ , and straw flies every which-way as he pounds into Merlin, as Merlin cries out and shoves up against him, scrabbling awkwardly at the bared stone of the floor with weak hands, trying to gain some purchase and failing, egging Arthur on. 

He comes against Arthur's belly, but it doesn't seem to sate him. He twists and pushes and cries out 'Arthur come on, I need it. I need it, Arthur, or I'll - I need -'

Coming is the last thing Arthur remembers for a little while, and when he rouses he feels weak, drained. 

'What - what was that?' he demands, casting around for his trousers. Merlin is huddled in the corner again, but not shivering this time, not radiating that sick, fierce heat. 'That fever - I thought you were going to die -' He did. He remembers, and he can't work out why he didn't go for Gaius -

'I was,' says Merlin, turning. His eyes are red. 'That was the plan.'

**Author's Note:**

> I am such a bad person.


End file.
